“She’s gone.”
“Man, you’re not making sense,” Massacre said. “Who’s gone?”
“Aunt Roxy,” he muttered, and the whole room froze.
Brothers that I’d gotten to know over the last few days stopped moving, all looking at Bullseye. Moonshine moved to the front of the table to get a better look and cursed.
“Oh God,” Roxy whispered as she moved the hair from his face and looked down at him. “It can’t be. Dylan?”
Bullseye lifted his left hand and opened it, showing her a small wooden dart. He whispered, ‘Help me’ before he passed out again.
“Oh God,” Roxy gasped, taking the dart, and screamed. “NEEDLE!”
The man named Needle ran into the kitchen carrying several bags. “I got them all. Where’s the damage?”
“I don’t know,” Roxy said, looking at the dart and then at Bullseye. Steeling herself, she shouted. “I need him stripped. Everyone look for a small puncture hole. It won’t be any bigger than a pinhead. Depending on the time he was hit, it should have a red ring around it.
We all did as she directed as we stripped Bullseye down to his underwear when Massacre shouted, “Found it. Left thigh.”
Roxy and Needle moved closer to inspect the entry point. Needle cursed, rummaging through bags, while Roxy extended her hand towards Moonshine. “Baby, I need your knife.”
Instantly Moonshine pulled a bowie knife from his belt and handed it to her. The next thing I saw was Roxy cutting into Bullseye’s flesh.
“What the fuck?” I growled, wanting to rip that knife from her hand.
“She has to cut it open to drain the puss,” Moonshine offered, holding onto Bullseye's shoulders. “Everyone hold him down. When she gets out enough, he will wake fighting mad.”
We all did as Moonshine instructed. After a few minutes, just like Moonshine said, Bullseye woke, ready to kill everyone. It took all of us to hold down my big-ass brother. Bullseye wasn’t like most of us. He was tall for sure, but he worked out…a lot. Like every fucking day, rain or shine. If he wasn’t in the weight room, he was running. The man was a machine, in the top shape of his life. He was a force to be reckoned with.
It only lasted a few seconds, but it was enough to make all of us sweat. Fucker was stronger than he looked, that was for sure.
“What the fuck is Dylan doing back here?” Ravage asked, holding his right leg.
“I thought he joined the Marines?” Slaughter said.
“He did. I just mailed off another letter to him last week,” Digger offered.
“Why is he wearing a Golden Skulls cut? He hates the brotherhood. He said he would never join?” Sypher asked.
I looked at Massacre as we both listened to the brothers around us. They knew Bullseye. They knew things about him that we didn’t. Then there was Bullseye asking for Roxy. Aunt Roxy. Looking at Moonshine, I wondered. “What the fuck is going on? How do you all know Bullseye?”
Moonshine sighed, then ran his fingers through his hair. “I wasn’t supposed to tell ya, but fuck it. Reaper can kill me later. Dylan is my nephew. Reaper came across some new information the other day. That’s why he showed up unexpectedly. He wanted more information.”
“About?” Massacre asked as Roxy and Needle cleaned and dressed the wound.
“Dylan and Layla.”
Growling, I asked. “What information?”
“Reaper asked me not to say anything. Not yet. I’m sorry, Ghost, but you’re gonna have to talk to Reaper about this.”
“My brother is hurt, possibly dying, and you want me to make a call to Reaper?”
“He’s not dying,” Roxy said, inserting a needle into his arm. “But I too would like to know why my fucking nephew is back and wearing colors.”
“Damn it, woman. It’s club business,” Moonshine shouted.
And that was when Roxy grabbed Moonshine’s bowie knife. She moved so damn fast, none of us could stop her. Before any of us knew it, she had Moonshine up against the wall with the knife pointed right at his jugular. “Listen to me, Lee Roy Franks. That is my nephew on that table. I helped bring him into this world. I breathed air into his lungs when he was born. I bathed him. I fed him. I’ve loved him as if he were my own, and right before Donna died, I promised I would always protect him and Layla. So, don’t give me that club business shit.”